


Traitors

by Evenmoor



Series: Methos, Master of the Force [1]
Category: Highlander - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Betrayal, Gen, Loss of Control, Mind Control, Order 66, Past Character Death, Post-Order 66, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenmoor/pseuds/Evenmoor
Summary: The clone force under Jedi Master Methos, known as the Centurion to his men, has turned on the traitorous Jedi and executed him. But as soon as he is dead, Sever and the others begin to question Order 66. Was the Centurion a traitor? And was Methos's ghost haunting them as they made their way back to the ship?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cyberbutterfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberbutterfly/gifts).



The long march back to the ship was painfully silent. Not that this surprised Sever; they were all still in shock. Though 'shock' was too generous a word to describe what they felt. He and his fellow clone troopers, the whole Century, were still trying to wrap their heads around what had just happened.

They had killed him. The Centurion. Jedi Master Methos. Basically, the only person who treated them as equals, as something more than just cannon fodder against the Separatists. And they killed him.

Sever knew better, of course. They hadn’t killed the Centurion. _He_ had. Everyone else’s shots went wild when Master Methos knocked them down with a Force push in a vain attempt to escape. But Sever’s shot… Sever’s hit home.

He could still see that moment in his mind even now: the cloth and flesh sizzling and burning as the plasma bolt impacted Methos's chest. The Jedi’s body tumbling through the air, clothes flapping around him like a collapsed parachute.

It had all made sense in that moment. The Jedi was a traitor. All the Jedi were traitors. And traitors had to die. Order 66 was clear. But as soon as the Jedi’s body disappeared from sight into the canyon below, Sever and his brothers had frozen in shock and disbelief. The absolute certainty of only moments before evaporated like mist in the sunlight.

And now, the Centurion’s ghost hounded them mockingly. Not that Sever was particularly superstitious, but he could swear that he could almost make him out in the corner of his eye. Sever refused to look, to see the charred hole where the man’s chest had been. Where he had killed him.

It was a bitter relief when the Century finally made it back to _Aletheia_ and they were able to distract themselves with the preparations for departure. None of them wanted to talk, even Gimbal, who normally no one could get to shut up. Were they just expected to return to the fleet as if nothing had happened?

Sever entered the cockpit both grateful for and dreading the solitude it provided. For a moment, he gazed out the canopy. With full magnification, he could just see the cliff path they had taken, where it all happened.

_Kriff it._

He pulled off his helmet and tossed it forcefully to the copilot’s seat while he slid into the empty pilot’s seat.

“Ow,” Master Methos said flatly as the helmet bounced off his chest and clattered to the deck.

Sever’s mind went blank. _Jedi. Traitor. Kill the traitor. Good soldiers followed orders._ He reached for his blaster. _Kill the traitor, save the Republic. Good soldiers followed orders._

“Sorry, Sever, but you already killed me once today,” the traitor said, holding up a hand. And then everything went black.

 

* * *

 

Sever blinked awake. _What the kriffing hells had happened?_

He tried to bring up a hand to rub his forehead and somehow sort out his jumbled thoughts, only to discover that he was quite thoroughly restrained.

The trooper grimaced and took stock of his surroundings. With some surprise, he realized that he was in _Aletheia_ ’s infirmary. His armor had been removed, so he was able to feel the subtle vibrations that told him that the ship was in flight. But he also felt the familiar warm, oddly tingly sensation of bacta -- on the side of his head.

_Well, that couldn’t be good._

“Oh, good. It’s about time you woke up. I was making bets with myself when you’d wake up, and I’ll have you know I’ve already lost 50 credits!”

Sever’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes stung with emotion. There, lounging in the doorway, stood Master Methos, the Centurion, as hale and whole as the day he’d taken them from Kamino.

The clone tried to speak, tried to form some words, but nothing would emerge from his mouth.

The Jedi entered the room, apparently completely at his ease, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t died. As if Sever hadn’t killed him.

“How do you feel, Sever? Any lingering desires to kill me?” Methos asked, as if reading his mind.

There was long moment of silence, broken only by the faint hum of the ship and the infirmary equipment. Finally, Sever managed to speak.

“You were dead. You’re not dead anymore.”

“Ten out of ten for observation. Yes, I was dead. I got better,” Methos matter-of-factly replied as he checked the readout on Sever’s vital signs. “The other Jedi… weren’t so lucky.”

If all the clones throughout the galaxy had received the Order… if they had all turned on the Jedi as the Century had… Sever looked away from Methos, unable to meet his eyes. The Jedi were dead, and his brothers were their executioners. 

“You were a traitor. The Jedi turned on the Chancellor, on the Republic. We had to kill you.” His shame made every word a struggle. The Jedi had not been the traitors. Sever and his brothers were. A vast chasm opened up beneath him, a yawning abyss that threatened to consume not just Sever, but the entire galaxy. _The Jedi were dead. All of them._ "You taught us to resist mind tricks, but this... There was no way. No way."

“It was the inhibitor chips.” Sever heard Methos sigh heavily. “The kriffing inhibitor chips. I knew there was something more to them than that. I told that little green troll ages ago. But I couldn’t exactly pop open your head to look, and I didn’t want to risk killing you if I removed it. But you rather forced my hand, so congratulations. You’re now 100% inhibitor chip-free, and not dead.”

Now that Sever had shaken free of the last vestiges of unconsciousness, he realized that his thoughts felt clearer. Crisper. Bright and sharp as the edge of a Jedi’s lightsaber.

“It’s strange,” he admitted. “It’s like my whole life I’ve been walking through fog. But now-”

“Yes.” Methos carefully undid the restraints, and Sever sat up, reflexively rubbing his wrists.

Something abruptly occurred to him.

“What about the rest of the Century? My brothers?”

“Still unconscious. I used _Aletheia_ ’s anti-intruder defenses to incapacitate them after handling you. They’ll be out for hours yet. Gimbal’s next on the table, by the way, but since I can’t fly the ship and operate at the same time, and you know how much I trust autopilots, I figured I’d use you as a guinea pig.”

“Always glad to be of service, sir,” Sever drawled sardonically, then slapped himself internally for the ill-advised quip.

“You _did_ shoot me. You’re lucky that wasn’t my favorite shirt. So you were doubly qualified to serve as my test patient. Just be thankful that I've been brushing up on neurosurgery lately.”

Sever frowned, finally gathering himself to meet the Centurion’s hazel eyes again. There was something there, he realized. Something... old. Dark. Sad. Sever hadn't met very many Jedi over the course of his relatively short life, but none of them, even Master Yoda, seemed like Methos did at that moment. For the first time, Sever realized how little he and his brothers knew the man who had led them through so many missions.

“How aren’t you dead?" he wondered aloud.

“That… is a story far longer and more complicated than we have time for at the moment. The short version is that I’m Immortal. Lucky me. Now, help me lug Gimbal in here, and then get up to the cockpit. We’re heading for Mandalore.”


End file.
